Chances
by Kimagure
Summary: A blind date shows Neville that in order to live, sometimes you have to take a chance on someone. Slash. WAFFy. NL/SB.


Author: Kimagure (chikitts@yahoo.com)

Title: Chances

Summary: A blind date shows Neville that in order to live, sometimes you have to take a chance on someone. 

Disclaimer: JKR, not me. 

Warnings: Randomness, lots of randomness. Very WAFFy, too. GOF!Sirius. Did I mention the randomness? ^-^;; 

Author's Notes: This fic is part of the ´Gardeners Delight´ Neville Fuh-Q-Fest: ; Pairing #5: Neville/Sirius. This, like most everything else I write is a bit AU-ish. Neville's 21 and this takes place after everyone is out of school, obviously. Nev/Sirius is pretty much my favorite ship, and it usually leads me down some rather strange paths. This is no exception. 

Rating: PG-13 

*****

Chances

*****

  
"Here, put this on."   
  
"Hermione, I don't know about this…"  
  
"C'mon Neville, all the clothes you have just don't fit you right. That and you have absolutely no sense of style," Hermione plowed blithely on as she sorted through the clothes rack that she'd dragged Neville over to the moment they'd walked into the swanky shop. Neville, however, was uncertain as to what exactly he'd done to deserve this.   
  
"It's not going to matter what I wear. From what you and Harry and Ron have said about this guy, he's going to get one look at me and take off running in the opposite direction," he groused as Hermione shoved the fifth pair of jeans she'd deemed acceptable at him.   
  
"You're not giving yourself enough credit, and you'd be surprised what the right kinds of clothes can do," came her muffled reply as she disappeared between two more clothes racks. To find him shirts, Neville assumed as he stumbled resignedly after her.   
  
He could easily see where she was coming from. After all, it _had_ been after the make-over Ginny had insisted on giving her that Harry finally had gotten his head out of his arse and done something about their mutual attraction. But Hermione had a cute little upturned nose, a slender frame, and bright intelligent brown eyes. Essentially, she'd had a lot to work with. And as for him…well, all the clothes in the world weren't going to make him attractive.   
  
"Just try them on, Neville. It won't kill you."   
  
"That's debatable," he grumped back as she loaded him down with two handfuls of shirts and what looked like a leather jacket and a jean jacket. "I'm going to die of asphyxiation underneath all these clothes."  
  
"God, men are so impossible," Hermione muttered under her breath before forcefully pushing Neville towards the changing rooms. "You almost died with Harry when you both got caught spying. You almost died when your great uncle tried to carve your heart out and serve you as a virgin sacrifice to Voldemort. You almost died when Harry and Ron took you out on your eighteenth birthday and got you so sloshed that you walked in front of a speeding car. A couple of harmless clothes aren't going to hurt you."   
  
"Gee, Hermione. You really know how to cheer a guy up."   
  
"This is for your own good. Now move it, mister."   
  
With a silent sigh, Neville obediently went into the changing room and started trying on clothes. He supposed it really would be too much to ask that people stop trying to do things 'for his own good'. After all, he hadn't asked them to set him up on a date. He hadn't asked them to interfere in his private life. He hadn't asked them his seventh year in school to drunkenly announce his lack of experience to everyone seated at the Three Broomsticks.   
  
He hadn't asked to be taken in by his cold, emotionally removed Grandmother. He hadn't asked for daily remonstrations over his general stupidity in school. He hadn't asked to be tortured on every trip home by his sadistic great uncle who seemed to be bent on trying to convert him to darkness. He hadn't asked for any of it. But somehow it was always done with the idea that it was 'for his own good'.   
  
Heaven help him if they ever decided to do something that wasn't supposed to be with the best of intentions.   
  
*****  
  
"I am not a fish hawk!" Sirius yelped.  
  
"Chicken hawk," Ron idly corrected, as he sipped at his pint, an overly amused grin plastered on his face. Sirius shot him a heated glare to assure the redhead that he was more than capable of removing that look of amusement.   
  
"You're making too much out of it, Sirius," Harry tried to placate, but Sirius was having none of it. He shot his godson a glare that equaled the one he'd sent in Ron's direction. "He's an old twenty-one, and you…you're a rather young forty."  
  
"Thirty-eight. _Thirty-eight_!" Sirius roared, more than a little frustrated at realizing that his godson was in the middle of manipulating him and that he was too sloshed to really put up much of a protest.   
  
"See, there you go. Thirty-eight. That's not really that much of a difference." Harry grinned triumphantly.   
  
"I'm old enough to be his father." Sirius frowned in what he hoped was a parental way. From the smirk on Harry's face, he knew the effort had fallen a bit short.   
  
"Oh come off it, Sirius. You would have had to have been fathering children when you were sixteen then. He's a year older than me, and from what you've told me, Dad knocked Mum up their seventh year. You're hardly ancient here." Harry took another sip, and Sirius had to resist the urge to strangle the brat as Ron laughed beside him.   
  
"Of course I'm not ancient. I'm just too old for him." Sirius glared, but it seemed to have no effect on either one of the little monsters. They were intent on setting him up on this blind date with their old classmate.   
  
"Trust us, Sirius. You're really not," Ron butted in, much to Sirius' dismay. "He's got one of those…those, oh hell, Harry, what are they called?"   
  
Harry's face was the picture of confusion for a few moments before he apparently channeled Ron. Sirius resisted the urge to plug his ears as Harry smiled at him. "An old soul. He's one of those chaps who has an old soul. You really are making too much out of the age difference. Would we set you up with someone we didn't think was appropriate for you?" Huge, innocent-seeming green eyes beamed up at him, and Sirius raised an eyebrow.   
  
"Yes," he deadpanned. "Remember Arabella."   
  
"Well, sure," Ron stuck his nose in, earning him another glare from Sirius, "but that was because you neglected to mention that you preferred blokes. How were we supposed to know?"   
  
"You weren't supposed to know. Hell, you weren't even supposed to care!" He shouted, losing a little bit of the rein he had over his temper. Harry, the sneaky little bastard, looked hurt by his comment, and Sirius could feel his resolve crumbling. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you, but you were still kids and I didn't think you were old enough to really appreciate the nuances of what was going on and…" He trailed off as both Harry and Ron dissolved into tears of mirth.   
  
"Nuances?" Ron chortled.   
  
"Still kids? This, from the guy who couldn't resist flicking peas at Snape during the awards ceremony last month?" Harry snickered.   
  
"Oh fine," Sirius sulked, finally capitulating and admitting defeat. "I'll take him out. It'll be an unmitigated disaster, I'll blame it all on you and then we'll both live separately, happily ever after. Now bugger off and let me finish my pint in peace."   
  
"Just give him a chance," Harry coaxed, completely ignoring Sirius' empty request. "You really do have a lot in common. And even if you don't, you both could probably use a good shag."   
  
*****  
  
Neville tugged uncomfortably on the jean jacket Hermione had insisted he wear. He had to be losing his mind to have willingly gone along with this, he decided. Odd clothes aside, he just wasn't the dating kind. Some people were just good at this sort of thing, and then again, some people just weren't. He batted his hair out of his eyes one last time as he gave himself a critical glance in the bathroom's mirror.   
  
Eventually he'd have to quit hiding out in the bathroom and meet the man that they'd set him up with, but he wanted to give the guy as little excuse as possible to run away screaming. The clothes Hermione had picked out looked…well, scruffy, for lack of a better word. The brand new jeans were slightly frayed at the cuffs, the shirt was a faded blue, which Hermione had assured him accentuated his blue eyes. Personally, he was beginning to wonder if maybe she just wasn't losing her mind.   
  
As for his hair…She'd insisted on getting it cut. Given its natural tendency to curl slightly and the scruffy, all-over-the-place style they'd chosen to give him, he decided he looked like a slob. A slightly less pudgy slob than he would have looked in his own clothes—Hermione had been right about his old clothes not fitting right. But still, a slob.  
  
"Well, this is probably as good as it's ever going to get." He sighed, eyeing himself with a snort of disgust. He was sure she'd meant well. They always meant well.   
  
But fact of the matter was, he wasn't a very social creature by nature. In fact, as his appearance usually belied, he was something of a homebody. He considered Hermione, and sometimes Ron and Harry, as his friends. But it wasn't like they were blood sibs or anything. There was something about him that made other people hesitate and stop short before getting to know him, and there was something in him that welcomed that hesitancy. He liked keeping his private thoughts private.   
  
Maybe it was just that by the time he'd gone to school, the idea of sharing any of what he was thinking with anyone was something of a foreign concept. No one at home had ever wanted to listen to him, had asked him to share what he thought. The kids at school hadn't been particularly concerned either. He supposed they thought he was too stupid to have an original thought in his head. Who cared what was on fat, squibby Neville's mind, right?   
  
Well, truth was he was fine with that. In fact, Hermione's pestering and personal questions got to him every once in a while. That and every time he shared something personal with her, it happened to get broadcast to the all and sundry. The whole virgin sacrifice debacle was just one example of many. Some things, he'd learned, were just always better left unsaid.   
  
He was much better off letting life just flow around him than he was actually participating in it.   
  
Pushing that niggling thought out of his head, he cautiously left the safe confines of the restaurant's bathroom to survey the scene in front of him. He panicked for a moment at the sight of so many boisterous, happy people. What in the hell had possessed him to accept this? No amount of badgering by Hermione could have been as uncomfortable to suffer through as this.   
  
Now what had she said? His date was going to be wearing a brown leather bomber jacket and a shirt with the words "Matilda Rides Again" written on it. He scanned the room once, not seeing anyone wearing anything that even remotely resembled that ensemble. On the second glance around, however, he saw the jacket and the lettered shirt on the stranger walking through the door.   
  
The absolutely drop-dead gorgeous stranger walking through the door that had to be at least ten years his senior. The stranger with the devil-may-care, rebel-without-a-cause attitude.   
  
Oh fuck.   
  
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply for a moment to gather up his courage and calm his jumping stomach. If this was someone's idea of a joke, he could have assured them that it wasn't funny. Not in the slightest. There was no way in hell that this handsome, older, _alive_ stranger would want to willingly spend time with someone like him. This man probably would want someone funny, lively, and wild to date. Someone _attractive_ to date.   
  
Not someone who retreated constantly from the world like he did. Not a stick-in-the-mud virgin like him.   
  
Yes, this was definitely a joke made at his expense. It was almost as apparent as the canary feathers he'd sprouted from the twins' canary creams. He drew another deep breath, this time fortifying himself against what he knew he had to do. Then, plastering an inane smile on his face, he clumsily made his way over to the table that the stranger had sat down at.   
  
After all, he hadn't been Gryffindor for nothing.   
  
*****  
  
Sirius plopped down on at the table, resigned to his fate. He hated to imagine what kind of a person Harry and Ron thought would be perfect for him. No doubt, they'd stumbled across some little smart-mouthed hell raiser and thought it a match made in heaven. Which couldn't possibly be farther from the truth. He no longer had the stupidity, the energy, or the lack of reality required to be twenty-something and invincible. He was all too aware of his own mortality, of his mistakes, of what price hard living could leave you paying…   
  
He scanned the room once, wondering who it was that he was going to end up spending the evening dining with. Probably one of the doped-up junkies sitting at the bar, he couldn't help but think morosely. He really was too old for this. His eye caught on one of the men standing in the back towards the restrooms, and he couldn't help but smile appreciatively.   
  
See, now there was something more his style. Why couldn't Ron and Harry have picked someone like him? There was an obvious air of discomfort around the man, as if being here in this diner was probably the last place on earth he wanted to be. Sirius could easily relate to that. Crowds made him incredibly nervous. Despite the fact that he'd been acquitted of the crimes that had landed him in Azkaban for twelve years, he still had a rather healthy distrust of large gatherings. After all, he'd learned first hand how bad mob mentality could get.   
  
In fact, half the time he wore such outrageous clothes was so that people would think twice before pushing him about or ordering him around. The fewer people who approached him, the happier he generally was.   
  
But Farm Boy, as Sirius had decided to dub him, was someone he definitely wouldn't have minded approaching him at all. He wasn't breathtakingly pretty in that revolting way that put Sirius in mind of child pornography or fleshing-eating sirens. But still, while Farm Boy may not have caused accidents with his good looks, there was a subtle, almost wholesome charm to the way his features were arranged on slightly tanned skin. This was someone who wasn't interested in partying until they both dropped dead from exhaustion or piercing parts of the body that were never meant to bear holes.   
  
Farm Boy drew in a deep breath before adjusting the jean jacket he happened to be wearing. The guy wasn't exactly skinny, Sirius decided, but it wasn't like he was pudgy either. He obviously had a somewhat stocky build. And there was just enough meat on the guy's bones so that he didn't look like he was going to float away in the breeze any time soon.   
  
Unlike other people, he thought rather wryly as he looked down at the way his own shirt hung somewhat loosely on his frame. He wasn't exactly a prize himself. Physically or mentally.   
  
Farm Boy opened his eyes, and then shot a nervous, determined glance in Sirius direction before meandering his way through the haphazard seating of the restaurant.   
  
Towards Sirius.   
  
Trying hard not to gape, Sirius managed a nervous smile himself as Farm Boy stopped just short of his table. "Hello, I'm Neville. Er…I think I'm supposed to be your blind date for the night."   
  
*****  
  
Sirius surveyed the scene before him with no little amount of chagrin. He didn't know what it was that he'd been expecting exactly, when he'd suggested that they go somewhere else to talk. It had been obvious that neither of them had been too comfortable in the restaurant, so he figured he'd merely offer them both a feasible means of getting out of that particular environment.   
  
But to go back to Neville's flat? He wondered if he was reading too much into this…or not enough. It was confusing, really. And the signals Neville was giving off didn't help at all.   
  
"Where'd you learn to cook?" He asked in what he hoped was a casual voice as he leaned his elbows on the table and watched Neville pull out yet another bowl. It wasn't normal for witches, let alone wizards, to be too versed in cooking. Most wizarding families that carried on cooking traditions did so because they couldn't afford the fee it took to care for a house elf.   
  
"Hermione." Neville said firmly, a wry smile playing at his lips as he took a moment to look over at Sirius before going back to what he was doing.   
  
"Hermione?" He asked doubtfully. Sure, she was muggle, and probably more accustomed to what cooking entailed, but still…  
  
"She's not really the cooking type, is she." Neville confirmed with a smile, his eyes dancing a little as he moved to grab something out of a cupboard. "Actually, she dragged me to a few muggle cooking classes not long after we graduated. Said she needed the moral support." He added with a shrug.   
  
"Moral support, huh. Well, I suppose it's a relief to know that there are things that even Hermione doesn't want to do alone." His godson's fiancé could really unnerve him on occasion with her sheer competence. A part of him thought she might go overboard whenever he came to visit them out of nervousness, and then again the other part of him was terrified that she might actually be _that_ much of a perfectionist.   
  
"Can you keep a secret?" There was a mischievous gleam in Neville's eyes which Sirius gladly welcomed as he nodded. "She couldn't cook a meal by herself to save her life. During the first class alone she managed to scorch three pans and then actually burn water. She's breathtakingly bad at it. Harry won't even let her in the kitchen, she told me." Sirius let out an amused bark of laughter and was rewarded again as Neville grinned back at him.   
  
The shy smile did a lot to transform Neville's features. It wasn't so much that he was suddenly rendered beautiful because of a couple upturns of the mouth, but there was something about the expression that reached his eyes. And they were very expressive eyes, Sirius noted with a smile of his own. Maybe, in another life, Sirius wouldn't have noted something so small or so seemingly insignificant. But that active, rash, flighty version of himself had been forced to take a back seat to the person he was now. He never would have survived Azkaban, his time on the lamb from the law or his quiet exoneration if he hadn't learned how to observe instead of act.   
  
And from one observer to another, he could recognize the signs. For that reason alone, their conversation so far seemed to be slightly stilted, with more than a few uncomfortable pauses. He was struck by it sometimes, the way that he could see what he wanted and know that he wanted it, but that he just didn't know how to reach out and take it anymore.   
  
It seemed a bit ironic since a new lease on life _should_ have lent him towards hedonism. But he'd spent an entire youth living life for the moment only…and all he'd had to show for it was twelve years in hell and a slew of broken dreams and broken friendships. Finding the introvert in him had given him life again, to his way of thinking. And this sort of rebirth confirmed to him at least that he would never let what happened before happen again.   
  
But as to Neville's reasons behind his personality…well, Sirius didn't have the first clue. Maybe that was what dating was all about, he thought rather ruefully.   
  
"So…what are you making?" he asked breaking the awkward silence and startling Neville slightly as the younger man's head popped up and looked questioningly at Sirius. "What are you cooking? You never did say," he clarified as he teased lightly.   
  
"Oh," Neville turned an almost violent shade of red before looking slightly uncomfortable, "um…actually, I think I'm making chocolate biscuits." Neville snuck a disheartened glance at him out of the corner of his eyes as he continued to stir the batter.   
  
"Biscuits? Biscuits are always good," he returned brightly, a bit confused as to Neville's reaction. "I love anything with sugar in it. You just can't go wrong with sugar." He added, hoping it would put the younger man more at ease. To his dismay, Neville only seemed to shrink further into himself at the words.   
  
The silence dragged on for a long moment until even Sirius couldn't stand it anymore. Obviously he'd made some sort of faux pas here that he wasn't aware of. The problem was that he had no idea how to redeem himself or take back the words now that they were already out.   
  
"I'm sorry," Neville finally piped in softly, breaking through Sirius' unhappiness with the situation. "I didn't even think. It's stupid really. I mean, when you suggested we go somewhere else, well, my flat was the only place I could think of," the words were barely above a whisper and Sirius strained to hear them. "And…and well, I was nervous. I don't usually do this sort of thing, you know?" He shot a pleading glance in Sirius' direction and Sirius gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Er, it's just that cooking relaxes me. It's a lot like gardening. And it's just that when we got here, I was so nervous that I really didn't stop to think…"  
  
"It's alright, Neville, I don't mind." He hastened to reassure as he jumped in at the pause. For whatever reason, this really was a huge issue in Neville's mind.   
  
"It has to be pretty dull for you though. God, some kind of host I am, I haven't even offered you something to drink. Are you thirsty?" Neville looked at him anxiously, and Sirius hid a grin as he gave a negative shake of his head. "I really am sorry about this."   
  
"'S okay," Sirius dismissed quickly with a wave of his hand. "So you like gardening as well as cooking?" If Neville was perplexed by the change in topic, it didn't show in his face, Sirius noted.   
  
"I _love_ gardening." Neville's stance relaxed in increments as he went back to making biscuits. "Herbology was the only subject in school that I was even half way decent at. I work over at Shire Gardens in their experimental greenhouses." Neville shot him a hesitant grin, which Sirius gladly returned with a low whistle. Shire Gardens had a reputation for being the best of the best as well as being fairly exclusive and selective. To have a position in their experimental greenhouses, Neville really must have done something really impressive to have caught their attention.   
  
"It's really not as big a deal as you might think." Neville hastened to add, oddly embarrassed it seemed by his whistle. Sirius took the comment and mulled it over a bit before finally dismissing it. It didn't seem like something he or Neville quite wanted to delve into on a first date. And as it was, he was kind of hoping that there would be a second date to follow this one…  
  
"Transfiguration was my favorite subject, but I always loved the way the greenhouses smelled when we were out there in spring," he threw out, casually shifting the focus of the conversation once more in the name of avoiding another awkward pause.   
  
From there, the conversation seemed to flow much easier, and by the time Sirius left, he was sorry to go. Partly because the more Neville said, the more he genuinely liked the other man…  
  
…And partly because those biscuits were probably the best thing he'd ever tasted.   
  
*****  
  
Neville looked around uncertainly as he followed Sirius back into the bowels of the place that Sirius had informed him was a shelter for abandoned and lost animals. He wasn't quite sure what to expect for a few reasons.   
  
One, it was a muggle facility, and for whatever reason, the way muggles worked things always seemed a bit odd to him. Two, he wasn't certain what Sirius's attachment to the place was. At first glance, he really hadn't struck Neville as an animal lover. But then again, at first glance, he'd assumed that Sirius was a party person, discontent with the slow life. And it was becoming increasingly more obvious that he'd been wrong there.   
  
Although, he still thought it strange that the man had asked him on a second date. He really couldn't claim he understood. Not that he was upset about it, he just didn't get why someone like Sirius would bother pursuing someone like him. Maybe the man's eyesight was shot or something. It was either that or the man really didn't understand that people just did not ask for second dates with _him_.   
  
Not that he blamed people for not asking for a second date. He was used to being alone. That was just the way things were, the way they'd always been. It was easy to be alone.   
  
They went through the big double doors that led back to an ugly, gray concrete corridor. The volume increased by about a thousand fold as well as dogs started barking, which seemed to incite the cats to yowling. It was utter pandemonium, and he had to resist the urge to clap his hands over his ears.   
  
"They'll quiet down in a minute. Visitors get them excited," Sirius shouted in his ear as the man calmly placed a hand on the small of his back and pushed him forward slightly. Stumbling, Neville started walking down the rather depressing looking isle. The first dog skittered to the back of the cage as he walked by, growling menacingly as Neville dared to slow down to look. The second dog jumped against the gate, barking happily and scaring about five years off of Neville's life as he jumped back himself, bumping into Sirius.   
  
"Some of them get pretty enthusiastic," Sirius chuckled in his ear as he helped Neville keep his balance. "There's one dog in the last pen that I thought we could take out for a walk, though."   
  
"They let you do that?" Neville looked up at Sirius uncertainly as he tried to keep from starting as another dog jumped at a gate, this time snarling.   
  
"I come in here often enough that they don't mind when I take a couple of them out on walks," Sirius seemed to be embarrassed by the fact. 

He never would have suspected that someone like Sirius would spend so much time with so many unwanted animals. Although, in a way, it did seem to fit the easy going nature that Sirius had about him. Neville imagined that Sirius was probably a pro at calming down a lot of the more terror stricken strays. He also seemed to be the type who could let go and happily give into meaningless play.   
  
Not that he was reading too much into the situation or anything. Neville managed to roll his eyes at his own thoughts, chagrined.   
  
"Here we are," Sirius announced as he walked them both up to the last pen with an infectious grin.   
  
Neville found himself smiling back before he peered into the pen. Like the rest of the cages, there wasn't a lot to be said for aesthetics. There was a rubber mat on the concrete floor, a drain in the rear, and a two stainless steel bowls. As for the dog itself…Well, Neville had never seen an uglier dog in his entire life. Not that he'd seen many dogs, but the snout was kind of squished in, and the jowls were lose and floppy around the dog's semi-thick neck. The fur was a muddy yellow-brown and long and tufty in places while almost non-existent in others.   
  
It did look at them both with the sweetest brown eyes, though.   
  
"Everybody here calls her Pretty," Sirius chuckled as he pulled a leash and collar out of his back pocket and moved to open the gate. "They think she's something of a cross between a bulldog and a golden retriever, but it's hard to say."   
  
Neville just nodded in agreement. He had no idea what a bulldog or a golden retriever looked like, but he figured it really didn't matter. "She won't bite, will she?" Because most every animal Neville had ever been around in his entire life had taken an almost immediate aversion to him. They were either like Trevor, who had almost always found a way to escape his terrarium and get lost, or they were like the Hippogriff he'd inadvertently pissed off his second year, and wanted to pound on him moments after introduction.   
  
"Naw, she's a sweetie. Aren't you, Pretty?" Sirius bent down, tugging gently on the dog's jowls and getting a happy lick for his efforts. The collar and the leash snapped on in quick order, and suddenly Sirius was shoving the handle of the leash into Neville's hand.   
  
"Oh no, wait-" he tried to protest, but Sirius already had him by the arm, leading him towards the door. It seemed to click then in Pretty's mind that they were going out, because once Sirius opened the door, Pretty jumped forward at full speed, dragging Neville behind her by default. He panicked at first, trying to rein the fairly big dog in and failing miserably as she hauled him over to the first patch of green grass she saw.   
  
He didn't know what to do with a dog. Why had Sirius done this to him? He didn't know what to do or how to act around animals. He was just as bad with them as he was with people. The only living things he got along with were plants. And that was because they didn't seem to need him to do anything other then merely be himself.   
  
Pretty didn't seem to care too terribly much how out of sorts Neville was feeling though, since she took to rolling in the grass and ignoring him completely. Neville felt himself relax by notches, and then even grin as the dog's tongue lolled out as she looked up at him.   
  
"Goofy dog, I think she wants you to scratch her stomach," Sirius whispered in his ear, and he blushed even as he shivered a little. In a way, he had just as hard a time understanding how he'd gotten outside with a dog as he did comprehending what it was in him that had prompted Sirius to ask him out on a second date.   
  
"Er, good dog," he managed nervously, getting down on his knees beside Pretty and tentatively giving her a couple scratches on her barrel chest. Her tail thumped hard against the ground, but he wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not, so he drew back. She immediately rolled onto her side and barked at him. He snatched both hands back then and scooted away a bit. The dog, however, seemed to take this as an open invite to attack, and Neville closed his eyes as she pounced on him…before proceeding to lick his face enthusiastically.   
  
He couldn't help himself, he laughed as he gently pushed her head away, scratching her behind the ears as he did so.   
  
"I thought the two of you might get along well," Sirius commented, and Neville turned to see the other man glancing back at them, an enigmatic smile playing at his lips.   
  
"Because we both have a face only a mother could love?" He blurted out before he could stop himself. "I mean-" he tried to back pedal only to stop up short as he realized that he'd pretty much meant what he'd said.   
  
"No," Sirius almost looked pissed off, and Neville felt his heart sinking a bit. Damn it, he always said the wrong thing. Just once in his life, he'd like to be able to say the right thing at the right time. Sirius sighed and threaded his fingers through his hair in what Neville could tell was a sign of frustration. Wonderful.   
  
"Look, forget I said anything, okay?" His voice sounded small, and he knew it. He concentrated instead on scratching Pretty, who seemed more than happy to lean all of her body weight against Neville in response. She wasn't exactly a thin dog; he'd say that much about her. Maybe that was part of the appeal though.   
  
"I'm not angry at you."   
  
"Fine."   
  
"I mean…Okay, maybe I am. A little. You aren't ugly, and I don't know why you'd say you were."   
  
"I've got a mirror, don't I? It's fine. Really," Neville tried to reassure. He'd accepted the truth years ago. He just wasn't beautiful in the way that most people found attractive, and really, that was okay with him most of the time. He didn't need to be surrounded by people, and he really didn't care to be around those that were so superficial that all they wanted was a pretty face and a tight arse. Quite frankly, he figured there was more to life.   
  
"You're not ugly to me," Sirius's eyes were intense and Neville shifted uncomfortable under the gaze. Well, not being ugly could be anything from only slightly less disgusting than one of Hagrid's pets to somewhat acceptable. Not that it mattered anyway, Neville mentally sighed, Sirius would get sick of him sooner or later. It was only a matter of time. Sirius shook his head, catching Neville's attention again. "Sorry, sometimes I take things a step too far. She's a great dog, though, right?"   
  
Neville nodded, smiling slightly as he accepted the change of topic for the peace offering that it was. "It's a shame she's here instead of with a family." He gave her another good scratch and she licked his face before rolling over in the grass again. "Sirius," he started, only to realize that Sirius was gone.   
  
And that there was now another dog there beside them. Blinking in surprise, Neville started as the huge beast barked hesitantly. Pretty, in her own right, was a fairly big dog, but it was nothing compared to the black mutt that was slinking over towards Neville on its belly.   
  
Other than sheer size, it didn't seem to be intimidating. Pretty, at least, wasn't fazed in the slightest, and bounded over with a bark, nipping playfully at the dog's haunches before darting over to Neville's side. The black dog inched just close enough to get within biting range of Neville's hand, and he snatched it away quickly as the dog rolled over to expose its belly.   
  
It chuffed at him with a small pleading woof, and tentatively, Neville reached out and scratched the enormous dog's chest. "You're an animagus," he spit out as it came to him. So many pieces suddenly slid into place. "So _that's_ how you were getting in and out of the castle our third year!"   
  
"Guilty as charged," Sirius grinned slightly after he'd changed back. Neville tried to yank his hand back, but Sirius's hand trapped it firmly in place. "Very few people know."   
  
"I won't tell anyone," he replied back automatically. He knew the value of a secret, and he understood the amount of trust it took to confide in someone. It was probably why he lived so much inside himself most of the time. He liked keeping his problems his own and his concerns his own. After all, the last secret he'd told Hermione had almost gotten him murdered. He loved Hermione as a friend, but he supposed he'd learned his lesson there. Although, in her defense, she had been three sheets to the wind when she'd blurted it out for all to hear.   
  
It was just better to keep things to himself. It always had been.   
  
"I know." Sirius squeezed his hand reassuringly.   
  
Neville gave him a genuine smile then. "I imagine my password list was really helpful too in getting past Sir Cadogan."  
  
"Damn right it was," Sirius blurted out before he glanced over at Neville guiltily. "I hope you didn't get into too much trouble for that."  
  
"It was years ago," he couldn't help but shake his head in silent amusement as Sirius sat up, still holding his hand. "I was never much good at remembering things."   
  
"But you're good at Herbology."   
  
"Herbology's different." He shrugged, not really able to explain it. Maybe it was that Sprout had spent so much extra time with him in the beginning making sure he'd understood the assignments and that he didn't fall behind. Maybe it was that he liked that the plants were vibrantly alive, and he enjoyed spending so much time with something that didn't make him feel inadequate at every turn. Or maybe it was just that Herbology had always interested him while everything else had just been a hassle.   
  
"Well, for what it's worth, I am sorry about stealing the sheet of passwords." The sheepish look on Sirius's face made him laugh.   
  
"What's say we get up and finish taking Pretty on her walk?" He suggested mildly, standing up, and helping Sirius up to his feet.   
  
The rest of the walk was relatively uneventful, although Neville rather enjoyed the small talk. Which was a first. Apparently Sirius either knew a great deal about Shire Gardens, or he'd read up on it after Neville had told him he worked there. Whatever the case, Sirius had been full of questions. In turn, Neville asked a lot of questions about the animal shelter and about muggle animals. He hadn't realized how big a part the whole thing had had in Sirius's life. Idly, he wondered if Harry even knew, because he certainly didn't remember Harry mentioning anything about his godfather being an animal lover. Although, truth be told, Harry might have been withholding information just to have gotten Neville out on the first date.   
  
He found himself sad to have it all come to an end, though, as they walked back into the shelter and headed towards Pretty's cage. "Um, do you think that maybe next week we could walk Pretty again?" It almost amazed him that he'd found the nerve to ask, and although Sirius gave him a smile in return for his efforts, he could sense the 'thanks, but no thanks' coming.  
  
"I'd love to, but this is Pretty's last weekend."  
  
"Why, what's happening to her?"   
  
"They're putting her to sleep tomorrow. She's been here too long, and they have to make space for the new arrivals. They can't afford to keep all the animals that make their way here," Sirius heaved a sigh as he bent down and scratched Pretty's head.   
  
And suddenly Neville saw it. The whole thing was as clear as day, and he almost wondered why he hadn't seen it the moment they'd walked in. He knew what it was about this place, about these animals, that called out to Sirius. He imagined that Sirius knew what it was like to be in their position. To be shoved into sterile, impersonal cages and to wait out their time until inevitably they reached the end.   
  
Except that Azkaban had to be much worse than this. The similarities were certainly there. No one wanted a convict anymore than people seemed to want to take home these abandoned strays. Some people reacted by curling back in on themselves, like the dog in the first pen had done. Or they reached out and desperately greeted every stranger with an over-exuberance of affection, praying that this would be the person who could bring their salvation.   
  
But in Azkaban, the cage wasn't so much the metal bars or the chain link fences or even the moat that isolated the island from the rest of humanity, Neville decided. The cage was constructed entirely inside one's head. Built up and reinforced by one's own fears. Shored up by whatever guilt and anger and ugliness one might have experienced in the course of their life. Cemented with isolation and people's indifference.   
  
Looking at the strays, and then sneaking a glance over at Sirius, Neville could see why Sirius could identify with the animals here. And he could see how much Sirius cared for them as the man played with Pretty.   
  
For someone who had spent his whole life learning how to pull back and retreat from life, he found himself admiring the way that Sirius reached out to those, even if they were simply unwanted pets, that still needed the warmth and affection of another creature to hold on to.   
  
"They aren't," he quietly informed Sirius, breaking the silence.   
  
"They aren't what?" Sirius's face was a picture of confusion.   
  
"They aren't putting her to sleep, because she's coming home with me."   
  
*****

"Oh, she's so cute, Neville," Hermione exclaimed as she bent down to pet Pretty who gave her an enthusiastic lick for her efforts. Neville grinned at her as she smiled back. 

The way he figured it, this was probably the reason they were friends. Hermione could be so perceptive and meticulous in a lot of varied areas, but in some things she was just charmingly blind. 

"I like her," Neville returned, plopping down on the couch and setting the mug of hot chocolate he'd gotten for Hermione on the coffee table. "She's the first animal I've ever met that didn't try to take my hand off in the first couple minutes." He grinned as Hermione gave a small laugh in response. 

"Well, I think she suits you. At least you're not here all by yourself anymore." 

"I thought it would be strange at first," he admitted reluctantly as Hermione grabbed her mug and sat down in the overstuffed chair she usually claimed when she came over. "But now that she's been around for a couple of days, it's almost like I can't remember what it was like without her here." 

"Good," Hermione nodded emphatically, and Neville found himself raising an eyebrow. "I've been really worried about you lately." 

"Worried?" He couldn't help but scoff a little at that. She had to be putting him on. He had the dullest life around. Not that he was unhappy with that. He'd had enough excitement in his teens to last a couple lifetimes. What could she have possibly been worried about? No one ever had seen him as much of a threat to anything, so the only time he'd ever really been in danger was when his Great Uncle had gotten it into his head to suck Neville's magic dry, or when he'd been dumb enough to get drunk with Harry and Ron. 

"Yes, worried." She had that look on her face again, and Neville sighed mentally. He knew a lecture was coming. "It's like after Voldemort fell, you started closing yourself off completely, person by person. The only reason I'm still around is because I'm too stubborn to take the 'get lost' hints you keep dropping." She was starting to look well and truly pissed, so Neville got up off the couch and retreated to the kitchen. Pretty trotted over with him as he placed his mug on the sink, and he bent down slightly to pet her, relaxing a little as he did so. There was just something really comforting about having her around. 

"It was no where near as drastic as that," he mumbled as Hermione inevitably followed him back into the kitchen. 

"Yes, yes it was. I didn't understand it. You were so social when we were in school." 

There was a certain comfort in the fact that Hermione was not infallible. He wasn't sure how she remembered him, but in his memories he hadn't ever been social because he'd wanted to be. He'd always been social because he messed up at every turn. It had made more sense to him to make a joke out of it with the people around him instead of getting mad about screwing up. He'd been social because the Twins thought he made a wonderful victim for their practical jokes. After all, he was used to the negative attention and didn't mind being their guinea pig that much. 

He guessed that he'd smiled in all the appropriate places and laughed along with everyone else at the jokes, but still. He'd always known that he didn't belong inside the normal pattern. He'd been a crybaby. He'd been a screw-up. He'd lack the essential Gryffindor attitude. 

But in school, especially a school he lived in, it wasn't possible to get away from everyone. Physically, there was almost always someone around. There was the occasional hidden nook that he'd stolen away to for a few hours, but it was impossible to be alone any longer than that without someone else stumbling across the spot. 

For someone like him, not talking drew more attention than chattering away inanely ever would. But it wasn't like he'd shared all of the real thoughts in his head. Oh, sure, some of them would slip out occasionally. When Malfoy had thrown that leg locker curse at him first year, he'd taken it to heart and then blurted out to his housemates that he knew that he didn't belong in Gryffindor. But true confessions like that were few and far in between. Not that many people had expected them from him, and truthfully, he'd been happy with that. It wasn't any of their business anyway, and they wouldn't have understood even if he had explained. 

"Hermione, I grew up. Scary thought, I know," he joked, trying to downplay her accusation. 

"No, it's different. I know you think I'm making too much out of it, but I'm not. I really was worried about you. That's why I talked to Harry about it." 

Neville couldn't help the wince. It wasn't that he minded Hermione talking to Harry about his problems. It was just that he had to think that his little mishaps and personality quirks had to seem so trivial to someone like Harry. After all, defeating the Dark Lord had to be a little higher up on the importance scale than whether or not a klutzy friend was getting out enough. "I'm sure he was thrilled about that." 

"Oh, come off it, you know Harry cares. So does Ron for that matter. They're just men and idiots about admitting it," Hermione waved a hand exasperatedly. "Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you and Sirius seem to be hitting it off." 

Neville tried really hard not to frown at that, but didn't succeed entirely. "You're not paying him or blackmailing him or anything to get him to go out with me, are you? Because, you know, if he doesn't want to be with me, I'd rather you didn't force him to." As much as he was really beginning to loathe the thought, it had crossed his mind that perhaps Hermione or Harry had somehow coerced Sirius into going out with him. And the thought hurt. More than he had really expected it to. 

"Don't make me come over there and smack you," Hermione deadpanned. "From what Harry's told me, Sirius has taken a real shine to you. We aren't making him do anything. As crazy as you might think it is, some people actually do like being around you, Neville. You're calming." 

"Oh," he blinked, not quite sure how to take that. "If you say so." 

"So," Hermione leaned against the counter next to him, obviously trying to act casual. "Are you going out with him again?" 

"Yes." He hid a grin, knowing that Hermione wouldn't be able to stand not knowing. 

"You do this on purpose, don't think I don't know that," she mocked glared at him, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "When? Where? Do you like him?" 

"This weekend. I don't know. And yes, I like him a lot," he admitted softly, grinning slightly at Hermione's happy squeal. "He just seems to notice what most people don't see, and he cares about things that most people wouldn't give a second glance." She threw her arms around his neck, and Neville had to laugh at her enthusiasm. "Geez, it's not like the bloke proposed marriage, Hermione." 

"I'm just happy for you," Hermione beamed back, pretty much ignoring any attempt on his part to downplay his own happiness. 

*****

"Remus understands it a bit better than Harry does, I think," Sirius found himself confessing as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jean. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neville nod encouragingly to him before letting out more of the leash so Pretty could get a little farther ahead of them. In some ways, it was surreal to be here, talking about his muggle job on a date with someone he was really beginning to like. "It's not that I don't do magic or that I ignore what I am, you know? It's just easier to work in the muggle world than it is in the wizarding one." 

"Sure," Neville added softly. "There's no one in the muggle world who's going to be watching your every move and making you paranoid. And working for a…a…"

"Veterinarian," he supplied. 

"Working for a muggle veterinarian has to be a change of scene for you, and probably a welcome challenge, too." Neville shrugged a bit self-consciously, and Sirius felt the corners of his mouth kick up a little at the picture. 

"It is, and I enjoy doing it. Remus understands, I think, because he's worked a couple of odd jobs in the muggle world, but I think Harry thought I'd go to work as an auror or something once I was exonerated." He sighed heavily at the thought too. He and his godson had butted heads a bit over the issue as well. Sirius knew that it would take years to clean up after the war and after Voldemort. And he could appreciate Harry's enthusiasm and dedication to doing just that. But truth was, he didn't want to fight anymore. Defensive magics were not something he'd spent his entire education at Hogwarts learning the way Harry had. On top of that, he was just exhausted. What he'd had to give to the cause, he'd already given. He wanted—needed really—some peace in his life. 

"Both Harry and Hermione can be a bit single minded sometimes." Neville's words broke through his thoughts. "He'll come around if he hasn't already." 

"Yeah, I just think that sometimes he and Remus look at what I do and wonder where it all came from," Sirius explained a bit ruefully. 

"Well, for what it's worth, it makes sense to me." Neville shrugged, and Sirius tried not to openly gape. "Er, I might be really out of line here, but twelve years in Azkaban had to have been really," Neville seemed to pause to find the right word, "lonely. People just make things complicated and expect explanations or excuses. Plants, or animals like Pretty I'd imagine, just accept things for the way that they are at that moment. They don't hold grudges. They don't hold your past mistakes and screw-ups against you. Their affection doesn't come with strings attached." Sirius nodded in agreement before leaning over to grab Neville's hand and give it a small squeeze. 

"How'd you get started at Shire Gardens?" So it wasn't the most subtle way to shift the focus of the conversation away from his job and life. Sirius gave a mental shrug. He wanted to know more about Neville, and the man really was awfully closed mouth about himself. 

"It was almost an accident really." He could hear the self-deprecation in Neville's voice and it bothered him. It was like the guy tried to downplay everything important in his life in an attempt to keep from leaving himself vulnerable. And while he could understand that, he wished Neville could understand that he'd be the last person to judge. After all, it wasn't like he had much room to. "I was experimenting on my own in the greenhouse seventh year, cross breeding a couple different strains. I got lucky and made a cross that had some medicinal uses. Professor Sprout insisted on showing the cross to a couple representatives from Shire Gardens, and they hired me on the next year. It's really not that exciting, but I love what I do." Neville seemed really agitated by the time he'd gotten the words out though, so Sirius rubbed his thumb lightly over the back of the hand that he held, hoping it would calm Neville down a little. 

"I think it was probably more than just a bit of luck, but it does sound like a neat job. I don't know that I could do it. I pretty much accidentally kill any plant I try to keep at home." That, at least, elicited a laugh out of Neville. 

"Some plants are more finicky then others. I've got this blooming cactus at home—it's magical of course—and it doesn't require much more than a sunny spot and maybe a good soaking about once every other month. You can have it if you'd like. They're a good plant for the kitchen since they tend to be fairly fragrant. Shire is hoping to start a line of perfumes with them once they get a few different breeds and aromas stabilized," Neville offered with an easy going grin, and once again, Sirius had to resist the urge to gape. 

Or to just kiss him. It was too soon to be moving that fast and he knew it. Neville was…cautious. And Sirius could sense that if he really wanted to pursue anything, he'd have to move carefully and very slowly. Which was a bit frustrating for him. He liked touching. It was the way he demonstrated affection. There was just something in Neville's body language though that let him know that going in full tilt would completely scare the other man off. 

He was lucky that Neville had even agreed to a date someone with a history, with a reputation like his. Most people who wanted to date someone who had spent twelve years in Azkaban were either fucked up themselves or adrenaline junkies with an ulterior motive. Neither appealed to him, and he'd almost been resigned to giving up the dating scene altogether when Harry had set him up. 

They reached the door to Neville's flat all too soon. He wanted to attempt a goodnight kiss there too, but the moment had never seemed appropriate. He couldn't really do it while Pretty was clawing at the door to get in, and it just seemed like an odd thing to try when one was holding a rather lovely smelling cactus. 

"Well, I suppose this is good night." Neville smiled, and Sirius couldn't help but grin back. Maybe Neville wasn't beautiful in the classical sense, but whenever he smiled it just seemed to bring to mind all the other great things there were to know about him.

"Do you want to go on another walk tomorrow?" Sirius wanted to kick himself as soon as the question came out. It sounded too desperate. Too needy. It was too much too soon, and he knew it from the look on Neville's face. 

"I can't." 

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to push. I just," Sirius paused to rethink his words, "I like spending time with you," Sirius found himself admitting sheepishly. 

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual." Neville tilted his head slightly as he tentatively placed a hand on Sirius's elbow. Sirius resisted the urge to put the plant on the ground and give the other man a bear hug in response. If he started touching now, he really wouldn't want to let go. "I just can't tomorrow. I promised my parents I'd visit them." 

For a moment, Sirius was thrown by the statement. It seemed so nonchalant and innocent. 

*****

Neville sighed heavily as he pushed past the doors and headed out to the fenced gardens at the edge of St. Mungos. He didn't mind visiting his parents. They weren't exactly responsive seeing as how most of the time they just stared blankly at whoever was in the room at the time. But he supposed that for someone like him, they made great listeners. He could tell them anything and they'd never look disappointed or angry or upset. They'd never look happy for him either, but he had long since accepted that they would never be able to recognize who he was or react to him. 

His Grandmother, on the other hand, was someone he generally tried to avoid at all costs these days. She'd been happy enough when he'd gotten his job at Shire, but now she seemed to think that he needed to be more ambitious, more forthright and demanding. 

And maybe it was just the clarity that only adulthood could give a person, but he realized now that she'd never really ever understood him either. Which made her a difficult person to be around these days since she had a tendency to harp at him to buy a house, get a wife, have children, etc. etc. He supposed she meant well, but being around her just always seemed to leave him drained and mopey in the end. 

She'd ambushed him today though during his weekly visit. Which both irritate him and upset him. Talking to his parents was the one time he had to himself to just talk. To freely say whatever it was that came to mind without having to weigh how someone else would take it or be able to use it against him. 

"I thought you might come out here eventually." 

His head jerked up at the familiar voice and he found himself looking up at Sirius, slack jawed. "What are you doing here?" He hadn't meant it to sound so wary, or to sound like an accusation, but it did. He hadn't even told Hermione that he visited his parents here. This was his secret. This was his business, and he didn't want anyone else's pity or interference. 

"I'm sorry, I should have thought this through better," Sirius looked guilty, but Neville couldn't quite bring himself to unravel enough to respond. It was almost as if someone had tried to climb inside his head without his permission. Sirius's presence here almost felt like an invasion. And it came at a time when he wasn't feeling a hundred percent to begin with. Neville diverted his eyes instead and tugged idly on a stray leaf from the nearby tree. "Look, you acted so casual about it that I didn't think it would bother you," Sirius tried to apologize. 

"How'd you know?" 

"I was in Azkaban when they brought in Barty Crouch and the others accused of the crime. Remus filled me in on the particulars once I was out. Your father was a pretty well known auror, even if I hadn't found out that way, I still would have asked after him at some point. It's not exactly a secret, Neville." Sirius looked confused, and Neville didn't feel as if he understood any better. 

"Yes, it is a secret," he snapped back, looking up at Sirius. "It's not something people talk about. It's not something they acknowledge. Nobody at home talked about it when I was growing up. Nobody at school knew. Maybe my father was once famous, but his fifteen minutes of fame have been over with for years." He tiredly ran his fingers through his hair. Couldn't Sirius understand that this was a taboo subject? That it had always been a forbidden topic of conversation for him? 

"Neville," Sirius started but trailed off as he twisted out of Sirius's reach and plopped down on the bench next to the tree. 

"Did you know my father?" The question just came out. 

"I knew of him, but I didn't know him." Sirius gingerly sat down beside him. Neville knew he was overreacting. So what if Sirius knew? Wasn't that part of making and keeping a relationship? Opening up and letting people in on the things that really held weight? 

But he'd been dealing with this by himself his whole life. His Grandmother, of course, had brought him to and from his parents' private hospital room since he'd been old enough to toddle on his own. But he could never confide in her about what he understood, or how he felt about the situation or about his parents. When she did talk about them, it was only to let Neville know how disappointed they would be in him if they were aware of the world around them. 

"To hear Gran talk, he seemed like a pretty intimidating guy," he said softly. When Sirius didn't say anything in return, he glanced over to see how the other man was taking everything he was saying. Sirius seemed apologetic, but he also seemed to be waiting patiently for him to continue. Which flustered him. This wasn't the first time Sirius had waited for a response or looked at him expectantly waiting for him to share something, but it was still something of a new experience for Neville. He was used to being the listener, not the person people listened to. "He always sounded so…perfect." His brow wrinkled as he spit the last word out. 

"He wasn't," Sirius carefully placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. "If I remember right, I know he had to take the auror test twice because he failed the first time. He also had a horrid habit of 'accidentally' spilling drinks on foreign diplomats that he didn't particularly like. Crouch liked pointing that out a lot to the Prophet when Frank went against his policies. He was popular because he was easy going for an auror. He didn't make people nervous or scared unless they truly were in the wrong." 

He hadn't realized how much he'd starved to hear something like that until after Sirius had finished saying it. The way Gran acted, his father could have done no wrong. And now…now he just seemed a bit more human. As odd as that was. 

Sirius's arm moved to rest lightly over his shoulders, and he tried to force himself to both keep his distance and relax at the same time. It was hard to know what to do. He didn't want to say anything that Sirius would be able to use against him later. Neville desperately wanted to keep himself protected, and the only way he'd ever known how to do that was through his own silence. 

At the same time though, that silence was like a cinch around his neck, slowly cutting off his air. "I'm not used to this." The words were so soft he barely heard them himself. 

"I know. And I know it's hard. I know it sounds like a load of crap coming from someone like me, but I'm not going to betray your trust. I only want to help, and I only want to understand you better. Your parents? They're a huge part of who you are, no matter who you are." Sirius squeezed his shoulder, and Neville felt himself relax into the embrace by increments. 

"I get so mad at them sometimes, and I feel so guilty for it." The words shocked him, even as he said them. Why hadn't he realized how true that was before now? "They can't help that they couldn't be there for me. It's just the way things worked out." 

"My mother used to say that just because it wasn't anyone's fault didn't mean that you couldn't feel angry about it." Sirius tugged on a strand of his hair and he nodded absently. He supposed he could see the truth in that. 

"I just wish things could have been different. That I'd known them better, at least. You know why I first got into plants?" He asked almost rhetorically. Sirius gave a negative shake of his head, and Neville managed a wry grin in return. "When I was really little, I overheard my grandmother talking to one of the nurses about my parents and how they were vegetables and how one day I'd have to be able to take care of them myself. I learned how to take care of vegetables before I was even old enough to go to primary school. By the time I'd figured out that they hadn't meant vegetables in the literal sense, I'd already fallen in love with gardening. Gran hated it." 

"Why? I mean, you're obviously brilliant at it." 

Neville shot him a look that clearly conveyed his doubt on that particular point, but Sirius merely frowned back. "She hated that I was always 'playing in the dirt' as she called it. I was too messy, and gardening was too trivial a past time for someone she expected to become an auror." 

"She didn't understand you at all, did she," Sirius stated, an incredulous look on his face. Neville blew out a hard sigh as he thought about it. 

"Probably not. Although, I don't think it was entirely her fault." 

"Why not?" 

"I never," Neville paused trying to figure out how much to tell and how much to keep back. A part of him was sick of weighing the words, debating how much information to share and how much to keep close to his chest as he always did. Another part of him though wasn't sure how to go about spilling everything. "She wasn't ever very approachable. When I was younger I tried to tell her a lot of things, but she never really seemed to take me seriously or believe me. I tried to tell her once when I was eight that Great Uncle Algie and Great Aunt Enid had dressed up in black robes and masks. She thought I'd been making it up." 

"Were they…?" Sirius seemed hesitant to ask. 

"They were Death Eaters. But that didn't come out until _years_ later." He shrugged. It was old history. He leaned into Sirius, looking up at him as he did so. "I'm not used to telling anyone a lot of this." As if that hadn't been patently obvious. He winced at his own inane words. 

"I really didn't mean to upset you by coming," Sirius whispered. 

"I know, and I'm sorry I overreacted. I'm not good at this. I'm not good at giving people a chance to get to know who I am, what I'm thinking." He took a deep, fortifying breath. "I'll understand if you didn't want to keep pursuing this," he paused looking for a word, "thing between us after this. I'm not an easy person to love, or even to like really. Not deep down." 

"Now, see, there I think you're wrong," Sirius admonished gently. "I think you're a very easy person to like, you just don't always give people the chance to try. I do like you, and I do want to get to know you better. I guess the question is, are you willing to take that chance on someone like me? I know that there are probably a lot of reasons out there to not trust me and to not pursue this any farther." 

The open uncertainty on Sirius's face was the last brick in the wall. He could take this chance, and he could give Sirius a chance. Because, for once in his life, he wasn't content with simply watching everything pass him by. He wanted to reach out and grab this opportunity. He wanted to know what it was like to be in love and be loved in return, and he'd never know that if he never tried. 

He'd never met anyone quite like Sirius before, and he didn't want to let this go. Reaching up gingerly, he grabbed the sides of Sirius's face and pulled the startled man down into a kiss, grinning as Sirius's arms looped around him and pulled him close. 

He hoped Sirius took that as the yes it was meant to be.

~Fin~ 


End file.
